


Flares on a Circuit Board

by foldednotes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, harry is gone, moping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 00:45:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4543692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foldednotes/pseuds/foldednotes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They seem to be in New York every December and usually Zayn is good with it, enjoys it even, but that was when Harry was still there. This time he isn't and Zayn can't really help but notice how much New York and Harry are connected in his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. December 19th 2014

**Author's Note:**

> This is Unbeta'd. I apologize for that but I have terrible anxiety around writing and somehow just releasing it seemed easier. I did my best to re-read and correct and beta myself a little bit, I hope you can enjoy this and apologize for any typos or mistakes still left in it. I decided to post this in chapters, even though they are not very long. This formatting just seems to fit the way the story is structured and allows me to add more chapters as I go.  
> I haven't posted much so I would really love to hear what you thought of this and just any thoughts you might have.

The set-up for the day is a little strange. There is more decoration than usual, flowers everywhere. Niall says it’s like they’re Julia Roberts in Notting Hill, Louis puts on his best american accent and makes a joke about ‘chick flicks’ and then they’re ushered off. As the first interviewer enters, Zayn is still trying to remember what happened in Notting Hill. It’s not a good day for him. Interviews are usually fine but it’s easier when they’re in the big group and much easier when they’re not in New York and he’s not thinking of Harry. He’s grateful Liam notices and takes over as much as possible. 

‘We’re very excited. It’s a new sound for us, we’re trying to take some new directions, you know.…’  
‘Instead of just one, right?’  
They both chuckle politely.  
‘What about you Zayn? I’ve noticed you have some more writing credits on this album.’  
‘Yea, yea I do. But we do that together ya know? I don’t jus sit in my room and write a song. One of us’ll have an idea and we go to the studio and we play around a little and come up with it together.’  
He drifts off and watches the building opposite, trying to figure out if the people in those offices can see them. If they can, they’re not letting on.

The day goes on and it’s another interviewer from the Post, the Reporter, the Inquirer, they all have the same name anyway. They all have the same questions, too.  
They get briefed for the rest of the interviews over lunch although the only topic he’d really need briefing on is Harry but that’s too ‘no comment’ even for the crew. The afternoon passes quicker than the morning and they are back in their own rooms by 6. 

On other days, a night off would have been a dream come true, but today is one of those days where too much time on his hands equals feeling lonely and removed from the world. So it’s TV and bed or maybe a smoke before. 

U wanna go for a smoke. 

Louis doesn’t answer immediately, so he heads down by himself. He’s been doing this for years but something about leaving a hotel through the kitchen, offices and backyards still makes him feel like a kid locked in the toy shop after closing time. He reaches the backyard and of course he left his lighter upstairs. He’s trying to decide what he minds less; asking one of the employees or going back upstairs; when his phone vibrates.

Going now. U there?

Thank god. A couple of minutes later Louis is standing next to him and they’re chatting about the day.  
‘Did anyone ask you about Harry?’  
‘No. None of them. Team must’ve told them some story before they let’em in.  
‘They asked Niall how he feels taking over verses for him, if he thinks he can pull it off. I was ready to jump at the blokes throat. Nialler is so uncomfortable doing that already.’  
‘Happy they didn’t ask me. How’d Niall take it?’  
‘He said he’s gonna do his best. I’m gonna go over to him after and see what he thinks. Didn’t have a chance to talk before. You know how he gets.’  
‘Yeah.’

When he gets back to his room there is a small package in front of his door. For a short bit he considers taking it to security but he decides against it. He takes it into the room and sets it on the desk. It’s wrapped in christmas paper, about the size of a small shoe box. He unwraps it and opens the lid to find crumpled up newspaper. Underneath it he finds a box of expensive looking chocolates and a stack of about 10 of the same postcard of Radio City Music Hall. They look vaguely familiar but he only realizes what they are when he turns them over. There are drawings all over them. Faces and symbols and graffiti writing and animals. They’re his doodles. He remembers sitting in the dressing room the night they played there and noticing the stack of cards. He was bored, they were either early or waiting for BTR to wrap up and he had just grabbed a handful and started doodling. On the last one, in red felt pen it says ‘Happy Christmas’. 

He has to sit down. Because there’s a memory that comes back to him about them. It was definitely after the concert. Because everyone else was watching BTR and only he and Harry were left in the dressing room. He remembers the way Harry had just sat there, not doing anything, more or less just staring at him and he had wanted to crawl out of his skin or tell Harry to leave because he didn’t want anyone watching him right then. But he hadn’t and had just gotten a little pissed. ‘FUCK OFF’ is written across one of the postcards in green and blue ink. He wants to rip the postcards up then. Shred them into the smallest possible pieces and burn them in the bin and toss them out the window. Because suddenly he’s thinking of Harry and thinking of Harry making him feel angry and of Harry just occupying so much space and of how he wishes Harry were here now to make him feel angry and to occupy his space and how he hasn’t been pissed at Harry in so long, just sad and how that actually makes him pissed at Harry. And then it’s back to familiar feelings, he’s mad at himself for not trying harder and mad at himself for not giving up easier. He’s just angry and doesn’t know what to do. Where did this even come from? Who gave it to him? Is someone trying to make him mad? Or sad? And then he nearly starts crying and it’s all worse because how pathetic is it to cry at something you did to yourself? To pity yourself that way? Because you screwed up?  
He wants to go outside, just go for a walk and feel the wind but he’s in New York and that means there’s no privacy and also that he’s reminded of what he’s running from at every corner. New York has always reminded him of Harry because of how interesting and sparkling and brilliant it seems from far away and how dirty and uneven and dizzying it is up close. 

He just goes to bed. Pulls off his trousers, lies down and sleeps.

 

He dreams of couples in parks. Moving all around him, none of them stopping, none of them slowing down. He is alone, no one seems to even notice him, he keeps stumbling backwards further and further until his back is to a small pond. There is a figure standing in a boat in the water but he can’t make out who it is. He wants to go after it, run in the water or yell but he can’t move his feet, just standing, almost falling over the bank but not being able to move. He opens his mouth and knows he is screaming but can’t understand the words. 

He wakes up then. There is no sleeping anymore and he curses Harry for the second time in the same day. Sleeping had always been a comfort to him. A home when he wasn’t home, a place where his thoughts and imagination could just swallow him. But he had gotten too familiar with the warmth of another person in his bed, too comfortable in someone else’s space, too lost in someone else’s smell, he’d fitted himself too much to someone else’s shape. 

The beds had seemed empty and cold. He had felt empty and cold. But he had gotten used to sleeping alone again. He had rediscovered how nice it was to take up space in the bed. He had figured out which position he liked to sleep in again. He had discovered ways to make himself fall asleep faster. He had enjoyed being by himself again. But he had never gotten his refuge back. Harry had taken up too much of it. He had pushed too far into his space and his body. Into his dreams and imagination. It feels like he’s patched up the hole but the cracks from the impact are still there.


	2. March 9th 2012

He had one of those mornings where he woke up and thought he was in his own bed. Then he looked around and realised he was in an empty hotel room. It all seemed empty really. These places where no one ever stayed for more than a few days. He felt a little like that too, in this moment, an empty place that never saw the same people for more than a few hours or days. But there was no use in thinking about it. The alarm had gone off for a reason. Reception would call with his wake up call any minute. And anyway, the only people that’d make this feeling better were probably assembling for breakfast in the next room. Their first day in New York. Their first show in New York. Sold out Radio City Music Hall. They might just be opening but they had a hit song in America. New York City, USA, Radio City Music Hall. It all sounded surreal. And made him feel even emptier somehow.

Breakfast. He decided to concentrate on breakfast.

The next room, Harrys, had larger windows, reaching from ceiling to floor. The breakfast table was set up in front of them. Zayn could see into the offices in the building closest to them and, through a narrow gap, over rows and rows of smaller buildings, to the river, and more rows of buildings beyond it. The city never seemed to end. He tried to imagine how Bradford would look from this high up.

—————————

It was amazing. They went on stage and the crowd actually sang their own songs back at them. It had started happening a while back, even in America, but he never felt his heart swell with it as much as today. He was proud of this. Proud of the band, proud of the lads. He tried to be proud of himself, too but he wasn’t really able to shake the empty feeling he had been dragging around all day. They were all piled in the dressing room, getting changed in the small space. He just sat on the sofa waiting for the others to leave. The hall erupted with noise again, BTR had probably taken the stage. 

‘Let’s go watch the show!’ Niall was in his pants and Louis was still peeling off his sweaty polo, so Liam’s enthusiasm wasn’t really met, but Harry agreed to come. He was pulling a shirt over his head, arms all over the place, and managed to consecutively bump into the clothes stand, one of the sofas, Louis, a chair, Liam and the door frame (and probably more things outside). How he even found so many things to bump into was always a mystery to Zayn but he mostly found it endearing.

‘You coming?’ Louis and Niall were done a few seconds later.  
‘Nah, still need to change.’  
‘A’ight mate, suit yourself’

He was happy to be alone. His head was still reeling from the concert they had just played, the crowd was mad. People had made signs for them, the opening act. This was all not so unusual anymore but they also weren’t in England anymore. His face was on one of the signs and he’d gotten a bit distracted at one point trying to figure out what it said and messed up his solo. He just got changed, let all the impressions wash over him once again, splashed his face with water and looked around the dressing room. It was small but pretty nice. Comfortable chairs and sofas and little pieces of decoration everywhere. He found a stack of postcards that advertised some show and had Radio City Music Hall on the front. The back was empty and so he found a few pens in his bag. He started drawing the sign with his face and then the girl holding it. A piece of street art he’d seen on the way came to his mind and he drew that as well as a few other things that were going through his head. His thoughts spilled onto the cards and allowed him to clear his head nicely.

He pretended not to hear when the door opened and just went on doodling. Harry sat down opposite him and leaned back. 

‘You alright mate?’  
‘Yeah good.’ He didn’t want anyone there. The soothing effect of his drawing was fading fast and he felt himself getting tense, too many thoughts crowding his head.

It felt silly, Harry had as much of a right to be here as he did. But it was never really that simple with Harry. He always demanded something, to be noticed, to be given a space and Zayn wasn’t willing to give it to him right then. So he just sat and doodled, writing ‘FUCK OFF’ graffiti style across one entire postcard. It felt like Harry was really testing him though, just looking at him, not even pretending to do something else. But he wouldn’t cave. Not this time. He wouldn’t allow Harry to get what he wanted as always. He’d just sit and doodle, no matter how pissed he got at Harry. Even though Harry didn’t seem to lose interest, just kept staring.

When the others came back after the show, he was grateful for the distraction. He had tensed up so much that he’d just been drawing shapes towards the end. He left the postcards in the dressing room, not really wanting them anymore. They went back to celebrate. Especially Louis and Harry wanted to go out but none of them were allowed to drink in America. So they compromised and threw a spontaneous party in the hotel. Thanking god for minibars and inviting band, crew and everyone else to Harrys room with them. Everyone stayed for a drink but soon, only the five of them were left.

They played poker, Lou having to explain it to everyone and failing, especially with H, who just grinned and went ‘all in’ at the first chance he got, losing miserably of course, because everyone saw right through his bluff. So Harry went back to the stereo and of course came up with some Oasis song that seemed vaguely familiar from when Zayn was younger. It was fitting though. 

‘Toniiiiight I’m a Rock’n’Roll STAR.’

Harry was singing along. Niall threw a handful of peanuts at him (they’d been using them as poker chips), which only prompted Harry to sing even louder. Before long, everyone had abandoned poker and joined in Harry’s little game, putting him back in the center of attention. Zayn didn’t mind that much this time, he felt slightly buzzed and all warm inside from the show and the alcohol and just didn’t find the energy to be pissed at Harry anymore. He just watched them all, sitting, standing, dancing around, singing along sloppily to whatever parts of songs they knew. This was a nice life to have. With these lads. He started singing with them when ‘We Are Young’ started playing. 

Liam made it back to his room but Niall and Louis just fell asleep on the second bed, Harry spread out all over his, a foot dangling off. Zayn turned off the music and was about to go back to his room, wondering if he’d make it without falling over, when he heard Harry talk into his pillow.

‘What?’  
Harry turned over, managing to still dangle a foot off the bed.  
‘D’you ever think that this isn’t it?  
‘What are you on about.’  
‘I just don’t think it’s enough sometimes, like… I’m… enough.’  
‘You’re so much though.’ he sat on the floor, leaning against the bed next to Hs foot.  
‘Thanks mate’  
‘That’s not what I meant but, you’re jus’… the most out of all of us. You’re the center of attention. You never get tired of it.’  
‘But like… I don feel like this is all there is. To… living, like…in the best way… to being alive. Shouldn’t it feel more… no, shouldn’t I feel more?’  
‘Like what?’  
‘I don know. I just… I wanna be… I don’t know but you know… how that music sounds. Like Oasis or like how it felt tonight on stage, you know?’  
‘It felt bigger tonight.’  
‘I know. But like why dunn it feel like this now?’  
‘I don know man but is’ good like this too right?’  
‘I guess.’  
Zayn hesitated.  
‘You just always need to be seen don’t you?’  
‘What do you mean?’  
‘Don’t get mad at me bro but you can never just like… sit and chill, you always gotta do something, like be noticed.’  
Harry grunted and Zayn didn’t hear any more.

He ended up sitting on the floor by himself, looking out the window. Harry wasn’t wrong, it did all feel odd. Like he was shedding his former life, his former self and he wasn’t sure if there was a new self to take it’s place. There was definitely a new life but he wasn’t sure how to not feel empty in it. He sat like that for a while, watching the darkness become less opaque and the city lights less bright. He must’ve fallen asleep because when he woke, there was a blanket draped around him and Harry sleeping on his shoulder. Zayn wrapped Harry in with himself and dozed off again, watching the first people walk into their offices in the next building.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a surprise posting. I started writing this a while ago but couldn't seem to find the courage to post it. A few people have helped me with it. Mostly J+J who are the best in a great many ways and the individuals in LPE, who, if they ever find this, will hopefully forgive me for not telling them about posting it. I am working on more chapters. Also please forgive me for cheesy titles etc. I am terrible at choosing titles. (The title is inspired by Books From Boxes by Maximo Park)


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